The Gift of a Second Life
by Silverhair Theory
Summary: Sequel to Gift of a Second Chance. A new life, as the... something... of the Dark Lord. A long journey begins, in more ways than one. Harry now faces himself, whatever that may be or become. HPLV
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings! I was feeling guilty this evening because I said this would be out by Christmas and it will be New Year in a couple of days. So here it is! Chapter 1 of the sequel to Gift of a Second Chance. If you haven't read it, then I advise doing that first.**

**Warning: I keep getting the feeling that my characters are all wandering off into ooc-ness. Apologies, I'm trying to keep them how I imagine them but it's getting pretty hard. ALSO - sorry about the new OCs. I started writing this and then realised I'd killed off all of the people I would have put into the sequel. There will be some old faces, but probably unusual ones.**

**Disclaimer - I own Nothing. J.K.Rowling owns everything. Sueing is pointless and unkind, so don't do it.**

**_Chapter 1 - The New Dawn_**

The pattern on the teacup was green, a picture of vines that curled around the rim and up the handle. Surprisingly beautiful and delicate, the contents swirled slowly, making patterns in the foam on the top around the tiny silver spoon that protruded from its depths. The light brown froth covered dark brown liquid and was flecked with spots of darker brown still. The warmth had heated the thin china and the hands that clasped the cup, nearly obscuring the pattern, were taking full advantage of it, even as a shiver rippled through the body attached to them.

Harry Potter took a sip of his hot chocolate and glanced over to the doorway in a futile hope it would be holding someone or something he knew was impossible. He shivered again, his thin form trembling beneath the clothes that he only wished belonged to him, thick black robes that kept almost none of the chill of the dungeons out. He wore nothing on his feet and therefore had tucked them underneath him to prevent the iciness of the flagstones from reaching his skin. Letting out a breath and seeing it curl in the cool air in front of him, he snapped his fingers sharply.

A house elf appreared in the room with a crack and bowed low to him, staring at the floor. "How can Roke assist you, master?" Its breath came out in little puffs that created small clouds of condensation that distracted Harry for a moment, before he remembered what he had asked it to him for.

"Im cold, can you make up a fire? Any heating spells would be useful too." He only wished that he could have performed the simple charms himself, making a magical fire was first or second year work, but without his wand, he had nothing. He had thought back and realised that it must still be on the grounds of the castle where it had been thrown during the final battle. Nobody had mentioned it to him.

The house elf at once busied itself with aquiring heat, casting a spell that made the room temperature a good three or four degrees warmer, then starting on the fire. Harry thought about his situation. That was what he spent most of his time doing at the moment. Thinking, and remembering.

He hadn't spoken to anyone except Tom and the house elf called Roke, the one currently fixing the fire, since the night he had arrived here. He had been locked inside Tom's quarters for days now, there wasn't any kind of natural light down here and he wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed. He had no way of telling the time, either, with no spells and no clocks. Though he had fallen asleep several times, he didn't know how long he'd slept each time.

The rooms he was staying in were pleasant enough. There was a small kitchen, with appliances that worked of their own magic rather than at his command and it was rather like using electricity, something he wondered whether Tom had because of his muggle background. There was plenty of food, the cupboards seemed to restock themselves and he had discovered that if you wrote down an item of food on the piece of parchment with _shopping list_ written on it that was stuck to the wall, the food you asked for appeared in the cupboards. It was a practicality that surprised him in the home of the Dark Lord.

Even in other rooms, everything that he needed was there. There was a library, mostly full of books of dark magic but some of other things that weren't dark, just really powerful. He even discovered a hidden section which had tomes of muggle literature in it, both fiction and non fiction. Then he had thought about how much Hermione would have loved it and had to leave the room immediately. He hadn't been in there since.

Occasionally, as he was sitting around doing nothing and thinking about everything, he wondered if he wasn't just being kept as some sort of catamite for the Dark Lord. There had been no indication of what he was to do, what would happen to him as Tom continued his plan on taking over Britain. In fact, Tom hadn't really been around much at all.

He had only seen Tom twice since he had been here, and only spoken once. The first time Harry had been on a chair in the sitting room examining one of Tom's strange trinkets when Tom had strode through the black wood doors that shut his quarters out from the rest of wherever they were. He had been followed by Wormtail and a tall skinny man with red hair like flames and piercing yellow eyes. Wormtail had given him a nervous glance, the redhead had looked had him with mild curiosity before following Tom further into the apartment. Tom hadn't looked at him at all.

The second time had been when Harry was really tired, lying on the couch with a fire the house elf had made crackling nearby and the sweet smell of the fire permeating the room. Tom had slipped in quietly but the breeze from him opening and closing the door caused the fire to spit and a cold wind run through the room.

"Tom?" Harry had sat up and Tom had sat down in a chair opposite him, looking into the fire. The flames flickered in his red eyes making him look quite eerie.

"Hello Harry." He had answered, his voice monotone. Harry had slowly, tentatively gotten up and walked over to where Tom sat, glancing up at him. To the older man's evident surprise he had climbed into the chair with him, settling down into a comfortable position curled up in the other man's arms.

"I love you Tom." he had murmured, and the stiffening indicated that he had been heard, but the other man made no move the throw him off and as the body he lay on slowly relaxed, a hand coming up to rest at the base of his neck, Tom spoke.

"I love you too, my Harry." Harry had fallen asleep soon after that, and woken later when the fire was down to its ashes but the smell still filled the room, and though the chair was empty the heat from another body remained.

Really, when Harry thought back to it now, it could hardly be counted as a proper conversation, as he'd only said five words the entire time.

Roke had finished the fire and the warmth was beginning to spread through the room now, warming his skin. Thanking the house elf, he motioned for it to leave and it did so. Roke was the only house elf allowed to serve him and obeyed him completely in everything but Harry's commands to be less formal. He did not meet Harry's eyes, called him 'master' and did not leave until Harry gave him permission. Clearly these house elves were perfectly trained, and submissive. Hermione would have been horrified. He was slowly becoming fond of the small creature, though it might have been expected considering it was the only other being he saw.

Harry had decided that later he would return to the library, and see if he could face the memories long enough to retrive some reading material. He was slowly going insane with nothing to do but think all day, and something to read would take his mind off of it.

Hearing a bang from somewhere else in the apartment, he heard footsteps and figured Tom was back. Maybe he would have to look into the library some other time.

Tom indeed appreared, dressed in dark red robes and carrying something wrapped in black cloth. "Harry, there you are." He put the package down on the table and straightened up again. "I want you to go and get changed into these, Im having a meeting and I want you there."

Harry paused for a second, before taking the parcel and opening it, inside was more cloth, obviously robes, but Harry couldn't tell much about them as they were all folded up. "Why do you want me there?" He asked, frowning, though inside he was looking forward to a change in the monotony.

"I realised last night that you have absolutely no idea of what has happened to the world since I Rose." He said the word like it had a capital letter. "I felt it appropriate that you know what is going on." Giving no further explanation, turning and leaving the room, pausing on his way out only to add "Be ready in five minutes." before leaving completely.

Harry stared at the empty doorway for a full ten seconds before pulling himself together. Quickly changing into the robes he took a moment to look at his new image in the full length mirror. The robes were simple and made of a soft dark grey material that felt warm to the touch. It had a hood and when he put it up it shadowed his face so that only a glimpse of his eyes, a duller green than they once were, showed. His black hair, down to the middle of his back now, was hidden underneath the hood.

When Tom came to collect him he was taken through stone corridors very similar to those at Hogwarts. He recognised none of the paintings, though, so it couldn't have been his beloved castle. They entered a long low room that had a chair like a throne at one end on a raised platform. Nagini reclined on it in glittering coils and Harry turned his head from her, the sight bringing back memories he had sworn not to think about.

"Sit there, Harry." Tom said, pushing the snake off of the throne. It hissed angrily and retreated to a dark corner, but Tom was beckoning a minion forward and pushing his sleeve back, pressing a long pale finger to the Dark Mark and suddenly the room was filling up with dark cloaked figures.

Feeling rather detatched from his surroundings, Harry watched their reactions. Most took a double take at the grey robed figure, sitting in their Master's throne while Lord Voldemort stood forward and a little to the right like a servant. He wondered what they thought about him being there.

"Greetings, Death Eaters." Tom spoke and his voice was cold, ruthless, like Harry remembered it had been before, and he shivered minutely. Tom glanced at him then carried on. "It has now been ten days since the Battle of Hogwarts. With the Light fallen, a new Order must arise if this country is to continue, to hold the purebloods together and keep the mudbloods in line.

"Hogwarts must be rebuilt, for a nation cannot thrive without the education of the young. I have chosen Rodolphus Lestrange as the new Head of Hogwarts, and it will be his responsibility to rebuild and staff the new building, with my approval." A man in the front rows bowed deep but did not speak.

"The Ministry of Magic is in turmoil, the Minister is dead and the Aurors are scattered and leaderless. I have chosen Augustus Rookwood as the new Minister and Macnair will be the Head of the Auror Department. You must both re-establish the Ministry as a powerful and organised company, you may choose your underlings and department Heads, but all new laws must be approved by me." The two men bowed low as well.

"My Death Eaters." Voldemort spoke to the whole crowd now. "England is now under my rule, and soon it will be entirely under my control. The people throughout this country are now my people. Everyone in my Inner Circle still surviving will form the new Wizengamot, and those that are not in the Inner Circle will become the force behind the movement. You may now return to your houses, those who have been in hiding may return to society, and those who have been shunned will be brought into the open again.

"Let all who are not in my Inner Circle leave now, for I must speak with those few that are left." Gradually, the people thinned out, as Death Eaters bowed and left with a crack of Apparation. Soon there were only a few left, and those that remained came forward and knelt before Voldemort. There were seven, and as they took off their masks Harry saw who they were. Antonin Dolohov, Rudolphus and Rastaban Lestrange, Macnair, Rookwood, Theodore Nott's father and a woman with dark skin, black hair and black eyes that he had never seen before.

Voldemort regarded them. "Well, my friends, our numbers are greatly depleted. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Bellatrix, Avery and Mulciber have left our ranks forever. There are few now who I would trust with positions of responsibilty and important information, but you seven qualify. I have already given three of you tasks, but before you leave I will show you something I am sure you have wondered."

The seven figures raised their heads as Voldemort turned and walked to Harry, pausing before pushing his hood back revealing the distinctive eyes and scar. There were a couple of intakes of breath, though it was impossible to tell who they came from.

"My Lord, that is Harry Potter, is it not?" Rudolphus spoke.

"Indeed." Voldemort answered, regarding Harry.

"If it is not too bold, why is he here and not..." The man paused.

"Not dead, you mean?" Voldemort asked. Rodolphus bowed his head respectfully. Voldemort looked at the seven figures thoughtfully for a few moments. "Who among you seven knows what a Horcrux is?" Dolohov, Rastaban Lestrange and the unknown woman nodded. "Suffice to say that Harry Potter has the blessing or curse, however you choose to view it, of being my Horcrux. My Primary Horcrux, as it happens. Let those of you who do not understand ask those who do. That is all I will say." All seven figures bowed and Macnair, Rookwood and Rudolphus Apparated away with a crack leaving just the four others left.

"Now, the rest of you, there must be envoys sent to the Giants, the Merpeople, the Vampires, the Weres, the Kraven and the Centaur. These creatures are those that served as our allies in the war, and I must speak with them to negotiate their new rights. Crabbe, Goyle and Carthas have already departed for the Giant colonies in the Mountains, so although they will not return for two months, we need not bother with them. The Weres are being controlled by Greyback for now and will not return from their hunting expedition for seven months yet, so there is no point in sending an envoy to them until they are settled in one place. The Centaur have mostly retreated beyond finding but I am sending you, Lestrange and you, Dolohov to the main Centaur gathering near Athens in Greece.

"The Merpeople have had some trouble of their own recently and Atlantis has been broken by civil war. Any negotiations with them will have to wait until they have rebuilt their own society. I sent the Carrows to speak with the Kraven eight days ago, with specific instructions to contact me every two days, but I have hard nothing back from them since. Nott, Speight, you will accompany me on my trip to speak with them myself, and to speak with the Vampire Council since they are on the way."

The four remaining figures nodded and bowed again. Dolohov and Lestrange Apparated away and the two others stood, bringing their hoods back but keeping their eyes respectfully lowered. Harry looked at the two figures, their features so different. Nott Senior was tall and broad shouldered, quite unlike his skinny son, with dusty greyish brown hair that fell to the tips of his ears. His skin was pale, like his son's but his face wasn't so thin. He looked old, but still strong, and his grey eyes were half lidded and blank of emotion.

The woman, Speight as Tom had called her, was shorter, about average height, with wavy black hair that fell to her shoulders. She had a pleasant, oval face, dark skin and deep brown eyes, almost black. A half smile curved her features prettily and for a split second, Harry was reminded forcefully of Luna Lovegood. The eyes gave her away though, cold and dark with pain. This was not a happy woman.

The next few hours were a blur to Harry. Still feeling rather apathetic from his days spent doing nothing, he sat listlessly next to the fire and listened to Voldemort talking with Nott and Speight. He learned that their first names were Alfred and Juliet and that his old classmate, Theodore Nott, would be accompanying them on their journey. Apparently Tom had thought he needed some company his own age. It was an awareness that surprised Harry, he had not expected Tom to be so thoughtful.

They would apparate to Lithuania where there was the portal to the dark plane in which the Vampires had built their Citadel. After speaking with the Vampire Elders they would travel to Russia where the Kraven lived. Harry knew almost nothing about the Kraven, only that they appeared something like humans and that they were considered a 'dark' species. They were extinct in england, but thrived in Russia, where the temperature was much colder.

Apparently he fell asleep in front of the fire, for when he woke up he was in bed with no memory of how he had gotten there. The room was pleasantly warm, someone had cast heating charms, and there was a neat pile of clothing folded at the end of the bed. Levering himself up, Harry shivered as he left the cocoon of the blanket and realised he was naked.

Scowling, Harry dressed quickly before examining himself in the full length mirror that graced his wall. He wore robes, but there were two layers, one of them, the inner one that clung to him like a second skin. It was very soft and warm, of a light grey. Over that he had a thicker dark grey robe, trapping a layer of air between the material and making Harry feel uncomfortably hot in the warm room. It was evidently for cold weather, because there was also a black fur cloak that came with it, as well as leather boots lined with fur that kept his feet nice and toasty.

Tom was waiting outside the room for him, talking to Alfred Nott. Speight was nowhere to be seen but Theodore Nott stood by one wall, eyes down and one hand nervously playing with the hem of his cloak. All three wizard were dressed similarly to Harry and only Theodore looked uncomfortable with the warmth he had to be experiencing.

As Harry closed the heavy door behind him it clicked, alerting those in the room to his presence. Tom's face lost some of its seriousness, Theodore frowned a little but Nott Senior was motionless and expressionless.

"Good evening, Harry." Tom spoke. "I am awaiting Spencer's signal that our travel is ready, then we shall leave."

Harry nodded and went to sit in his favorite chair by the mercifully empty fireplace. Feeling his stomach growl, he clicked his fingers and Roke popped next to him, bowing low and not looking up from the floor.

"What can Roke do for you, master?"

"I would like some pumpkin juice, and toast please Roke." The elf bowed again and popped away, returning a moment later with the required pumpkin juice and toast, buttered just the way the little creature knew Harry preferred it. "Thankyou." Harry said and it waved one tiny hand in dismissal, before taking out a bottle and placing it on the table.

It was filled with a brown liquid and the elf bowed slighty before speaking in a rush. "Master's favorite hot chocolate, kept warm until he wishes to drink it." Then it popped away hurriedly, leaving Harry with a suprised expression and a little kernel of warmth in his heart at the kindness and thoughtfulness of the creature.

"Well, you seem to have made an impression on my house elf." Tom's voice came from behind him, a touch of laughter in it that Harry knew only he could hear. Thoroughly ignoring the other man he began to eat his breakfast.

"My Lord... you allow your elf to be so disrespectful?" Nott Senior spoke and Harry was unsurprised to hear a note of disapproval in his voice. Though it was the first emotion he could remember the man showing, he had expected that the Notts would be similar in their disrespectful treatment of house elfs to the way the other pureblood families all seemed to be.

Harry could almost see Tom's dangerous smile. "How Harry chooses to let the elfs treat him is his choice. The creature continues to show the usual and appropriate respect and fear for me." Nott made a skeptical noise and Harry knew by the way the noise was cut off with an intake of breath that Tom had drawn his wand. "You will not treat Harry with such disdain. He is mine and if you dare to show disdain to him then you show disdain to me." Another gasp. "I do not take well to disdain, Nott."

"Of course not, my Lord." The voice croaked out, and Harry glanced over to see Theodore not watching the scene nervously, his hand clenched into a fist in his robe.

"My Lord, your travel is ready." A deep, rich voice spoke from the entrance to the doorway and Harry looked up to see the man with flaming red hair standing in the doorway, a neutral expression on his face but obviously hiding his amusement. Tom moved to the doorway and beckoned to Harry, who slipped the bottle of hot chocolate into his robe and followed. The Nott's followed shortly after.

They walked thorugh the stone passageways out into a courtyard, bordered on three sides by stables. Various strange looking creatures gazed out of the stalls at Harry, but in the centre of the courtyard were six winged horses, in varying shades of grey. Speight was standing by one, speaking to it and stroking the dusky neck.

"Pegasi." Tom said, moving to stand beside Harry. "Beautiful, aren't they. Imported from Italy. They were really the only feasible option. Thestrals are too unnerving for people who can't see them and although everyone present can, other travellers may not and it could cause irritating suspicion, and brooms are uncomfortable and unneccesary. Pegasi are intelligent, powerful and have the safety of their rider their first priority."

The flame-haired man, Spencer, brought two pegasi, one ebony and the other silvery grey, to them. Awkwardly Harry climbed onto the back of the silver one, hiding his blush of embarrasment when Spencer had to help him mount the tall creature. Tom was already sitting on the black one by the time he had righted himself, and Harry had a moment to examine the sensation as the others mounted.

It was more comfortable than riding a Hippogriff, and less exposed than a broom. The skin was warm and smooth and _living_ underneath his hands and the great grey wings were folded behind his legs. The pegasi really were huge, standing a good eight or nine feet tall with wingtips that brushed the ground.

Once all six of them were mounted, Tom, Harry, Speight, Spencer, Nott Senior and Nott Junior, Spencer gave a toss of his head and made a double clicking sound in his throat and the animals spread their wings and leapt upwards into flight.

Harry threw himself forwards and wrapped his arms around the strong neck as the incline tried to drag him back to the ground. The wings brushed the backs of his thighs and he could feel the muscles in the pegasus' back shifting under his arms and legs. As they climbed higher Harry looked over and saw Tom sitting quite happily on his own animal, one hand wrapped almost absentmindedly in the mane. He smirked a little at Harry's discomfort and Harry scowled at him, though his heart jolted a little at the sight of Tom's smile.

Tom looked so beautiful, powerful and brilliant, bathed by the light of the moon. His red eyes seemed to glow in the darkness and for a moment Harry forgot about the pegasus beneath him and the night around him and the destination ahead of him, and just fell into those eyes.

It was only when the pegasi levelled out their flight that Harry was torn away. Sitting gingerly up on the creature's back Harry gradually became used to the rocking motion of the wings and the wind trying to unseat him. It was actually quite soothing, and if Harry hadn't just woken up from sleeping he might have drifted off. This was lucky, as he would almost certainly have fallen off of the pegasus' back had he fallen asleep.

"Harry." Tom's voice startled him our of his reverie. He was flying below and to the side of Harry, so they could talk without their pegasus' wings hitting each other. "We will be flying over the sea soon. It will take most of the night, we should arrive in Denmark in the morning. We will stop there for a rest, sleep and then continue in the evening." Harry nodded. Not trusting his voice over the howling of the wind in his ears. "Once we get over the sea the winds may become dangerous, air currents could cause the pegasi to become distressed. We might have to fly near the water." Tom warned. Harry nodded again and the other man flew away. moving to the head of the group to speak to Spencer.

They flew for a long time, and Harry found himself unable to concentrate on anything but the feeling of the powerful back beneath him and the shifting, glittering waves far, far below him. The land dropped away quickly and the horizon stretched on forever as far as he could see, surrounded as they were by water on every side. After a while the wind became too powerful and the majestic creatures swooped lower to skim along near the waves, so close that Harry could see their reflection in the water, rippling dark shapes.

It was difficult to tell how much time had passed, so when land finally rose up out of the mists ahead of them Harry couldn't say how long it had taken to cross the ocean. Gradually the coastline became clearer and the shapes of hills and towns began to form. It was still quite early and the sun had barely begun to lighten in the east, so it seemed unlikely that any muggles would be watching the shore, but Tom instructed everyone to cast Illusion Charms on themselves, and cast one himself on Harry. To muggles, they would appear as seagulls instead of people on flying horses.

They flew to a town a couple of miles inland, far enough away from the shore that they couldn't see it but could still smell the salt on the air. The town was small, nearly a village, but it had an Inn and the bartender was a wizard, so it was alright. It turned out that the witch, Speight, had a gift for languages and she talked the bartender into finding a place out the back on the Inn for the pegasi to rest, with charms on them to make them appear like normal horses.

The rooms were small, but adequate, if you ignored the smell of dampness and the way the floorboards creaked like they were about to give way when you walked across them. Speight got a room to herself, being the only female, and Spencer, Nott and Theodore shared one room while Tom insisted he and Harry shared another.

They had not brought much with them that needed to be unpacked but their clothes were salty and damp from the spray off the sea. Having all changed into better, drier clothes, Tom decided they would sit around the bar for a while until it was properly daytime.

Nott and Spencer began discussing the pegasi, which developed into a discussion about modes of transport and then onto broomsticks and Quidditch, something Harry had an entertaining time listening to for a while. Spencer apparently was very disapproving of Quidditch in general, preferring the less popular broomstick sport of broom racing. Nott was adamant that Quidditch was the only proper game to play on broomstick and they seemed to be enjoying themselves as they degenerated into a friendly insult match. It was clear they were fairly good friends and that this conversation had played itself out many times before.

Speight got into a conversation with the bartender, apparently, according to Tom who understood only the basics of danish, talking about the town and its wizard to muggle population. Through incomplete translations by Tom, he worked out that the town was somewhere near the muggle city of Esbjerg, though in which direction he had no idea.

The town was about two thirds muggle and one third wizard, though most of the muggles had no idea about the magic in their neighbors. The only ones who knew were those who had married a wizard, something Tom looked surprised about even as he translated it. Not that they were the only ones who knew, but that most wizards in Denmark didn't seem to mind marrying muggles. The wizarding community in general was, due to being a lot smaller, a lot more willing to marry non-magical folk just to keep the possibility of having heirs around.

Tom, when not translating for Harry, sat nursing a glass of whiskey and gazing out of the window between mouthfuls. After the third glass the bartender seemed to catch on and just left the bottle on the table, prompting Spencer and Nott to take shots as well. Harry looked on distantly, feeling no great desire to join them in their drinking. Tom had a high alcohol tolerance, but right now Harry didn't want to get drunk. He felt drowsy again, something that seemed to be happening a lot recently.

Nothing to do around Tom's quarters had taught him to sleep when he was bored, and he could feel his body slipping into power save mode. To wake himself up, he decided to go to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.

The bathroom had that dank, slimy smell that is often found underground or in caves. There was mould growing across the ceiling from one corner of the room and the taps were tarnished and caked with limescale. Harry gripped the sides of the sink with his hands, looking at his reflection in the dirty and cracked mirror.

His eyes were their natural green, but dulled and empty, his skin was pale and grey under the eyes, even though he was pretty sure he had slept a lot in the past few days. Black hair fell just below his shoulders, not greasy but limp instead, lying like a dead thing across his face. Something about his whole being seemed weary and grey, he felt apathetic and exhausted.

He was so intent upon his self-study that he almost missed the other figure sliding into the bathroom behind him, visible in the mirror. Moving forward to the sinks it passed under one of the dim lightbulbs and Harry recognised it as Theodore Nott. The boy was slender to the point of being called too thin, and his narrow face and the hair that fell across his eyes enhanced the image. The eyes themselves were grey, darker than his father's and the colour of wet slate, piercing and narrowed in Harry's direction.

Harry turned his eyes back to his own reflection, deciding to ignore the other youth until he made an effort to interact. It was too much trouble otherwise. And indeed, after a few moments of examining Harry's countenance, he did speak.

"I can't work out why you're here."

It wasn't what Harry had been expecting, but he didn't respond in any way until Theodore spoke again.

"Draco always said you were weak. I think that if you were, the Dark Lord would have killed you by now. But he hasn't. So there must be a reason why you are still here."

Harry glanced at him, but he wasn't looking at Harry anymore and had turned to face the floor instead, grey eyes still narrowed.

"You aren't stronger than the Dark Lord, that much is clear by your appearance and his manner. He behaves as if you are a female pureblood ambassador from another country, without any real power but who it is important to keep sweet."

Harry regarded the youth more curiously now. He had not been aware of the apparent social impact of the way Tom treated him, nor of how well Theodore could read people. It was quite interesting, and he didn't seem finished yet.

"You are no dark creature, and thus have no possible influence to be transferred to the Dark Lord. As far as I am aware you have never left england, so cannot bring influence from other countries either. There are a few peculiarities about your person that might grant you a short time as a curiosity to my Lord, but his interest in you seems deeper than that, less about your abilities and more about you as a person."

Theodore glanced up and his eyes glittered oddly as the dim light caught them. He walked slowly towards Harry, speaking as he walked.

"You have not displayed any amazing personal qualities, you clearly aren't an empath, and yet you seem able to read my lord very well. Surprisingly well, for someone who was supposed to be an enemy." He paused in his speaking, looking Harry's body up and down. "You are quite physically attractive, I suppose, but a little scrawny. Still, I don't suppose that matters when you're bending over for my lord does it?"

"Pardon?" Harry's mouth opened in surprise.

"You heard me." Theodore was right up against Harry now, less than a foot away, and Harry was feeling uncomfortably penned in.

"I have deduced that you are nothing but the Dark Lord's fuck toy."

Harry wasn't aware he had moved until he felt his fist hit the side of Theodore's face. Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly in peak physical condition and the feeble punch did nothing but anger the other boy.

"Now, now, whore, calm down." Theodore gripped Harry's wrists in a surprisingly strong grasp and pushed him back against the sink so that the porcelein was digging into his back uncomfortably and their bodies were pressed together.

"How dare you call me a whore!" Harry gasped, out of breath.

"Why not? That's what you are. The Dark Lord's whore."

"Is that so, Theodore." the voice froze them both. Theodore's eyes, previously cold and glittering went wide and terrified. Harry could see over his shoulder to the doorway and the figure of Voldemort silhouetted against the dim space beyond, Nott Senior just visible behind him.

"I suggest you step away from Harry, Theodore." Voldemort's voice was a hiss, menacing and dripping with threat. Harry could feel Theodore shaking and see the beading of cold sweat on his forehead as the other youth dropped his hands and stepped away, looking at the floor.

In one fel twist Voldemort had Theodore at wand point against the wall, his chin high as the wood of the wand pressed hard into his throat. "How dare you. How_ dare_ you. Do you have no self preservation at all, Theodore?" Harry could see Nott Senior in the doorway. He gave the appearance of calm but his eyes were flickering rapidly between Voldemort's face and his son's. Harry could only see Voldemort's back but he must have looked pretty terrifying because Theodore looked like he was dying of fear.

"You are lucky, Theodore, that your sorry hide is not expendable. You are lucky I have a use for you. Otherwise." He approached the shaking youth and hissed into his ear, pushing the wand into his throat ever harder. "Otherwise, I would make you wish you had never been born. As it is... _Crucio._"

Theodore fell to the floor, screaming. Voldemort flicked a wandless silencing charm at him with his off hand and kept the wand relentlessly trained on the writhing figure. "_It's not enough_." He hissed in parseltongue. _"You deserve to suffer more for what you said!_"

"Tom, stop." Harry spoke, and hadn't realised until Tom turned to him, not raising the wand. Their eyes met. "Stop it, Tom." Voldemort eyed him for a few more seconds, then pulled the wand away. Thedore lay, twitching in the receeding spasms of agony and Harry saw Nott Senior twitch in sympathy.

He went over to Voldemort and pulled him out of the room, leaving Nott Senior to fix up his son. Ignoring the gazes of the others in the bar he dragged the older man up the stairs to their quiet little bedroom. Once the door was shut Harry leaned against it and slid to the floor, hanging his head.

"Why did you stop me, Harry? You know he deserves to be punished." Voldemort's voice was high and cold, far too reminiscent of the dark time before, and Harry shivered.

"If everyone who deserves to be punished was punished adequately, you and I would both spend our lives in agony, Tom. I just couldn't see you you that to him. Even if he did deserve it."

"I understand that I need to be punished, indeed if it would not be considered extremely bizarre I might end up exacting some sort of self-atonement for my own crimes, but that would be unacceptable. What do you have to be ashamed of, Harry? I cannot think of one thing you have ever done that deserves half as much punishment as the least of my crimes."

Harry kept his head down and his voice low as he answered, even though his voice was clearly audible in the quiet room.

"I killed Cedric. I killed Sirius. I killed Hermione and Remus and Draco and Neville and Ron, oh Ron. Alright, so maybe it wasn't my wand that cast the killing curse, but they're still dead. They're still dead because of me!" He raised his heat and shouted the last sentance at Voldemort, who watched him impassively.

"Sometimes I wish I'd died as well. I feel guilty for living. What will they say, when I get to the afterlife, Tom? I let them die, then not only did I not avenge them by killing their murderer, I slept with him." Something broke inside Harry and he felt his voice raising in pitch, he could feel himself becoming hysterical but he didn't care, he didn't care and Voldemort was still just standing there, saying nothing.

"I slept with the man who murdered my best friend! And my parents! And my godfathers! How can I face them when I die? Sorry guys, I just had to jump in bed with your murderer. I'm sure they'll understand, not!" Harry took several deep breaths, hyperventilating. There were white spots appearing in front of his eyes and he could feel through the haze that there was a hand on his shoulder, and another on his face. Slowly, his vision cleared and he stared into the red eyes of Voldemort.

"Harry, I want you to calm down. If you don't then I will have to put you to sleep." The scarlet gaze held his own, he was drowning, drowning in blood... "Harry, stay with me. I want you to kiss me." He focussed on Voldemort's face, the face of a murderer, and suddenly a wave of feeling washed over him.

Love. This was the same man who had kissed him with such passion in the chamber of secrets, such sweetness in the seventh year Slytherin dorm and full of a love that completed, blinded, bonded the two of them together in Voldemort's own rooms in Riddle Manor. Love.

He placed his lips on Voldemort, chaste but powerful and meaningful. Voldemort stood, pulling Harry with him, and picked him up bridal style laying him on the bed. Stroking Harry's hair he removed their outer robes and pulled the warm covers over their forms, a welcome in the cold room. Harry relaxed into the embrace, the cool skin making him shiver deliciously. Tucking his head into Voldemort's neck, he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of the other man, calming, soothing and so very near, so very _there_, that he felt it impossible to be afraid anymore.

**Author's Notes - Well? What do you think? Please leave me a review and tell me, especially if you think the characters are OC.**

**Two things: Firstly, I need a new beta. My old one has run off leaving me trying to beta this myself, and I don't really trust that. Anyone who is interested, please leave me a message and I'd be delighted to talk to you. Secondly, I'm considering putting mpreg into this fic. It's not certain yet, but if anyone has any opinion on that could you also leave me a review telling me. Thankyou!**


	2. Chapter 2

***crawls out from under a rock***

**um...hi?**

**I know many people had probably forgotten about this fic by now but in the aftermath of such classic Harry/Tom fics such as Paraselenic by** EmpyrealFantasy **and Weapon by** Jade Tatsu **(about TIME girl! - Im such a hypocrite) being updated, I figured I was going to get this BLOODY DONE ALREADY!**

**I dont have a real excuse - well, actually thats not true, I have several, including taking my A levels, questioning my sexuality and falling in love - these two simultaneously mind you - and having a close friend who was seriously depressed and suicidal turn to me for help.**

**But I doubt anybody really cares about that. Does anybody even read these things anyway?**

**Anyway, for those few WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL people who do, the mystery of what happened to Vlad and Tom's child WILL be answered, so don't anyone worry. Voldemort will probably NOT be returning to his pre-experimenting looks, as love should be based on more important things than looks (go and read ch 5 of Second Chance), however there will be a vote on this. The wand issue will be resolved also. **

**In results to my question about Mpreg, 18 people said to go for it, 3 people said don't, and 3 people said 'meh'. However despite this result a review by **ZenNihilism** made me think carefully about what it would do to the current character dynamics and I am as of yet undecided. I guess people will just have to wait and see :p**

**Big big thankyous to the people who offered beta services. I was overwhelmed to get so many, and I truly appreciated all the offers. My amazing new beta is the fabulous** My Tilly**, aka My Ophelia, who I officially love (despite her not replying to my recent emails - where are you??).**

**Special thanks to **Saintmagician** for a very thought-provoking PM and to **disgruntledfairy**, who wrote two of the most encouraging and flattering reviews I have ever recieved. I am truly not worthy of such praise, and it made me feel all warm and fuzzy to read them. I've kept them for when I get bad reviews and need something to cheer me up. Thankyou!**

**This chapter is dedicated to **Akire**, for leaving me a helpful and detailed review for every single chapter of GoSC! What amazing dedication!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP. JKR does. I do own Vlad though, as he will grudgingly admit.**

* * *

_**Chapter 2 - The Citadel**_

Harry woke to an arm around his chest and a solid warm weight against his back.

Shifting, he rolled over and looked at the figure in the bed with him. Face creased in a slight frown and mouth open very slightly, Voldemort lay deep in slumber, his crimson eyes hidden from view. Harry took the opportunity to examine the face of his... something, and let his eyes roll over the corpse-white skin, so pale that the blood vessels were stunningly visible and mottled like snakeskin in place, like on the backs of his eyelids. The nose which Harry had once found replusive was now simply a nose, flat and slitted like a serpent's face.

The roving eyes fell on Voldemort's mouth, with lips so thin they were hardly there at all and so pale they were almost blue. There came from it the soft whispery sound of inhaling and exhaling, like the wind through trees, brushing Harry's face with its warmth. The dark haired boy smiled. Leaning forward, he gently covered the lips he'd been gazing upon with his own.

Smiling as he felt the older man sluggishly respond, Harry leaned back and was treated to the sight of Voldemort's half-lidded eyes, blood red gaze firmly fixed upon his face.

"Morning Tom."

"Good morning, my Hart." Tom murmured, then leant forward and recaptured Harry's lips.

Languidly, a tongue brushed scross Harry's bottom lip and he welcomed it into his mouth, caressing the intruder with his own tongue and sucking on it. Voldemort sighed in satisfaction and licked the roof of Harry's mouth, causing him to let out a huff of breath in laughter. They resumed kissing, and Harry slipped a hand between their bodies that were pressed so close together to brush over the other man's chest. When the questing hand found a gap in the material and burrowed inside Tom broke the kiss with a gasp at the sensation, giving Harry the opportunity to place teasing kisses on the side of his face and throat.

"Your hand is... cold." Tom's breath hitched as Harry ran his hand across one pointed nipple, and Harry reflected as he had often done before that Tom's skin was remarkably warm for that of a man so in tune with his serpentine side. It was proof that below all of the experimentations and the beautiful if eerie physical beauty left behind by the touches of strange rituals and unknown spells, the man was still fundamentally human, exactly the same as Harry.

Having satisfied his need to appreciate his lover's chest, the hand became decidedly less innocent and decidedly more playful as it slipped down through the tangle of bedcovers and sleeping robes to the hidden heat at the base of the man's torso.

Tom shifted and groaned, unconsiously parting his legs in an effort to persuade the hand to focus on the prize, an action surprisingly submissive to the normal countenance of the man. Pushing himself further up with the hand not otherwise occupied, Harry laid teasing kisses on the small sliver of skin visible through the loose material of the sleeping robes, tongueing a hot path down towards where his other hand was still dancing around Tom's erection.

"Nn... Hart-" Tom spoke, voice sounding a little breathless, but his efforts to sit up were thwarted when Harry removed his hand from the depths of Tom's robes and mvoed up the older man's body so that they were face to face.

"Sssh." Harry whispered, allowing some of the sibilance of parseltongue to enter his words as he placed one hand, coincidently the same hand that had just been down Tom's pants, over the other man's lips. Tom settled back down and took the opportunity to lick Harry's finger, causing Harry to shudder a little and a lustful smile to break over his face. Leaning down, Harry licked the shell of Tom's ear and whispered "Just let me enjoy you."

The words caused an exhale of breath that was almost a moan but not quite vocalised, a ripple of anticipation running through the Dark Lord's prone form. Harry smirked and moved back down south of the border, reveling in the effect he was able to have on the other man.

It was something that he had known on a subconsious level throughout the later part of their relationship, that Tom was at least a little affected by him in the way that he himself affected Harry, but to have it so clearly displayed was tantalising.

Their last few encounters, in the claustrophobic dungeon rooms of Tom's headquarters, had been more about passion, Tom rediscovering the body he had spent half a lifetime searching for and Harry getting used to having the likeness of a Dark Lord over him rather than the body of a teenage boy. There had been little time for thorough enjoyment and appreciation of each other's bodies when the aim had seemed to be getting to know them as fast as possible, like cramming for a difficult test.

What he intended to do now was sample his older lover's caresses like wine, revel in the companionship that he was now certain belonged to him and him only, and see if he could make if not the most feared then definitely the most sucessful Dark Lord in centuries lose his composure.

Pulling aside the last vestiges of covers and baring Tom's chest to the early morning air, he licked and bit a trail down the line of the Dark Lord's chest, brushing the man's nipples with his restless hands to send shudders through his body. Tom's hands were going crazy at his sides and one pale fingered hand reached up as if to entangle itself in his black locks, only to fall back down to the sheets when Harry stopped all activity the moment he felt it touch his hair. This was about making Tom lose control, and having something to ground him was not going to aid Harry in that venture.

When Harry finally reached the base of his lover's need he paused, just breathing on the hot flesh and waiting for some vocalisation from Tom that showed him that yes, the man was _very_ hard up and yes, he would be_ very_ much obliged if Harry would just _touch him there, right there._

Harry smirked around the Dark Lord's cock as he _felt_ so much as heard Tom's shudders of pleasure. He let some of his amusement manifest itself as humming laughter in order to drive Tom crazy and was rewarded with an exhalation of breath that sounded entirely too ragged for the amount of control he knew his lover wished he possessed at the moment. His own hardness was pressing against the sheets below him and the friction was delicious.

Not exactly an expert or a veteran in the cocksucking department, Harry attempted to do what came naturally. After all, if things continued in the way they seemed to be going at the moment, then he and Tom would have a lifetime, if not longer to learn the things each other liked best. As it was Harry summoned the memories of the times the young Tom Riddle had instigated this favour to remind himself of the techniques that would cause the most pleasure.

Perhaps it was his eagerness to please, perhaps Harry was naturally talented, or perhaps it was the fact that Tom hadn't had a blowjob in over fifty years that caused the intense, mindblowing pleasure that washed through the Dark Lord's system. It was the most sensual, torturous experience he could imagine, at least whilst his mind was otherwise occupied, mostly with half-formed throughts, curses and pleas that he refused to vocalise, gritting his teeth and only allowing a long, drawn-out moan to escape his lips.

Harry grinned at the reaction the older man was having, feeling heat rush through his own body at the sound of Tom's moan. His own hard-on was aching and pressed against the material of the bed and Harry couldn't help but reach a hand down to touch himself whilst listening to Tom make those delicious sounds.

It was quite a novel experience for Harry to be in control of the sexual proceedings. To be sure, he had caused Tom to lose control of himself before during moments of heightened passion, but this type of control, the knowledge the he was in charge of Tom's pleasure, that he need only pause in his ministrations and Tom would be left begging, wanting, needing more....

Unable to resist the temptation, Harry pulled off, sending a very Slytherin smirk up to where Tom was panting, glaring down at Harry with half-lidded crimson eyes.

"Ha..." Tom gasped, still fighting for breath. "If you stop..." He left the threat hanging in the air, empty and pointless and both of them knew it, but it sent a thrill through Harry to know that he reduced his lover to such ridiculous gestures and relented, taking Tom's cock back into his mouth and continuing in his enthusiasm.

Now that Tom's serpentine tongue had been loosed, the moans seemed to come more frequently, and interspersed were words, mostly in parseltongue, gasped attempts at Harry's name or his moniker, cut-off pleas and more threats that made Harry hum with amusement. The vibrations only made Tom curse louder, of course.

The threats seemed to be reaching a pinnacle, as Tom progressed from torture and simply mutilation to insinuations of death and then straight out, no-holds-barred killing. The ferocity of his desperation drove Harry ever higher as well, his hand frantic in its work and the pleasure rocking his system in a manner that was no less intense than previous sexual encounters.

Tom's human voice was abruptly cut off as he emitted a drawn-out hiss, low and sibilant and seeming to curl through the room with almost a physical presence. The Dark Lord's body tensed and suddenly he was coming and Harry was swallowing, choking and he pulled away, eyes roving over the form of his lover. The sight, the sound of that pleasure-filled serpentine cry and the taste of Tom's essence in his throat overwhelmed Harry and he came as well, spurting over his hand and onto the sheets between Tom's legs.

He collapsed bonelessly onto Tom's stomach, frowning and rolling sideways when his face landed in a smear of Tom's own come that was across the man's skin. Curious, he wiped the stuff off of his face and tasted it, licking it off of his hands. A low, sated chuckle reached his ears and he turned his head to see Tom watching him, obviously aroused by the image of Harry licking come from his hands but too exhausted to do anything about it.

They lay together on the bed for a while, watching each other and reveling in the fragile peace that seemed to exist between them just for this moment. After a bit, Tom's eyes drifted closed and his breathing evened a little, slowing from the adrenaline high they had both been on.

Harry sighed in satisfaction, pulling himself out of the bed and leaving the sprawled form of the Dark Lord behind. Turning to look he marvelled at how undignified the man looked. Stifling a grin, he imagined the looks on the faces of the Death Eaters if they could see their Lord now; he would never have their full respect again! Thankfully, he couldn't hear any movement beyond the thin walls and he took this to mean that he was the only one up.

Walking to the window he pulled it open with some difficulty and gazed out. The evening was crisp and cool, a fresh breeze that smelt of the sea blowing in his face. He breathed it in, relishing the feeling of freedom in the open air. This was different to last night on the Pegasi because then he had been in the sky, unstable and ungrounded. Now he had the protection of the four walls above him and the reassuring presence of Tom in the bed behind him.

"What are you looking at?"

It seemed Tom had woken and was indeed right behind him. "Nothing. Just the sky." The horizon was an incredible sight to behold, a spectacular red sunset that painted the heavens in purple and crimson and gold. Harry stared up at it, fixing the image in his mind and letting it grow until that was the only thing there, pushing away all the ever-pressing worries until he was standing in glorious obliviousness.

Tom wrapped his arms around Harry, resting his chin on Harry's head. Although Harry wasn't particularly short anymore, Tom still towered above him which meant he could do things like that. He rather liked the feeling, the protective embrace and the knowledge that Tom could and would defend him against all who would do him harm.

"What are we doing today?"

"After we have eaten, we will continue on to Lithuania. We should reach the portal a couple of hours before dawn, which is good, because that means the portal will be open and guarded and we won't have to spend another wretched night near muggles."

Harry pondered this information. "Tom, can I ask you a question?"

"You already have Harry, but feel free to ask another." Harry frowned a little at Voldemort, who raised an eyebrow.

"Why don't the vampires live in Transylvania, or Pennsylvania or something? That's where they always live in the movies and the fairytales."

Voldemort pulled Harry away from the window and pushed him towards the wardrobe. "Get dressed, we will need to move soon." For a few seconds, Harry thought he wasn't going to answer the question, but then Voldemort spoke, carefully and precisely, as if it was something he had learned. "It is exactly because of all the muggle legends that the Vampire community had to move their portal to this world. If you think that the vampires dwell on this earth, you are mistaken, as they do not. Instead they inhabit one of the many pocket universes created by accident in the formings of the great magics in the dawn of time, requiring explanations far too complex to really think about on a day-to-day basis and which are largely unnecessary anyway

"These pocket universes are small, so small and uncomplicated that they can be shaped by a powerful mind to be what that mind wills. The mind itself must be of phenomenal power to control the pocket universe though, unfortunately even I do not have the mental capacity. The last human with the talent for holding pocket universes in their head was Rowena Ravenclaw, but she only ever tried it the once and missed earth so much she had to return.

"The vampires moved the main headquarters to this pocket universe in the time of Cariadoc, the great part-vampiric historian, about six thousand years ago. Before that they moved on earth, but they were being hunted to extinction so the clan leaders got together and discovered the talents of Cariadoc, who had the mental capacity to hold together the strands of reality that you use to create a portal to a pocket universe. The very oldest vampires can remember this switch but they are so ancient and so powerful they mostly spend their time in the bowels of the Citadel, keeping the rituals of preservation going on Cariadoc. Unfortunately there has been none since him who can hold together the pocket universe, so they have had to keep him alive in some form or another this whole time.

"The vampires themselves live in a stone fortress called the Citadel, inside the pocket universe. The clans that live on the earth all have representatives who travel to the CItadel frequently, and report to the Vampire Council and the Triune Throne, which is a set of three Vampires who rule in sequence, two ruling while one sleeps. When one of the Triune is killed, a new Triune is chosen by the other two from amongst the Vampire Council."

"And who are you going to talk to?" Harry asked.

"I spoke with Methuei Velirox before, who was the current second of the Council. I presume that he will be the one to deal with me again, unless the politics have changed greatly since I was last there, even if that was over fifteen years ago. Vampires tend to think of time rather differently than humans. As long as they don't get slain and have a regular blood intake they can live to well over five thousand years old, and when you live that long you know that every chance will come around again. That's about all I know about the current systems inside the Citadel, but there was some disturbance a few years ago and it was kept very quiet. Only my spies inside the Citadel Court enabled me to discover it, so I shall have to wait until we get there to see if anything has changed."

"I see." They were both dressed now, and made their way to breakfast in silence, both thinking their own thoughts. Harry would have had more sucess with his train of throught if his and Voldemort's hands hadn't kept brushing together as they walked down the stairs, sending a jolt through him everytime they touched. It was extremely distracting.

Eating was a rather strangled affair. Speight joined them shortly after they started with Spencer arriving after that and rubbing his head, muttering about hangovers, but Nott and Theodore did not appear until Harry and Tom had finished eating entirely and Harry was considering risking going to the bathroom again.

Theodore avoided everyone's eyes, skulking behind his father like he was trying to hide. Nott's eyes flickered over Harry and then onto Tom, before he bowed, said "My Lord" and sat, pulling his son down and waving the bartender over to get some food without making a single other glance.

They left as soon as breakfast was over, the Pegasi once more leaping into the night sky and beginning the long journey east. The journey gave Harry time to think properly for the first time since that morning, and think he did.

He felt... pathetic.

Somehow the whole whirlwind of events that had ruled his life for the past couple of weeks had left him feeling empty and dry. It was impossibly hard to believe that in this world only two weeks had passed since the Great Battle of Hogwarts. Even if he added on the time spent in the past, it was still only a couple of months since he had been living life as Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, et cetera. Not Harry 'Hart' Potter... something... of the Dark Lord.

The ten days of lying around and thinking of nothing had made him apathetic and drowsy but being outside, the wind and the water and he had to admit, the morning sex, had begun to strip away the grey veil that had been draped over his eyes.

Okay, so everyone he had ever loved, besides Tom, was dead, killed by Tom himself.

Harry sighed. That was just something he would have to deal with. He had to move on with his life, for the simple sake of his sanity, if nothing else. He would remember those who had died in the war for his whole life and as soon as he had the chance he would make Tom erect a monument to those who had died.

He didn't care what the older man said, they had been brave people who died fighting for something they believed in. That was something worth remembering.

Besides, he could always make Tom sleep on the couch until he agreed.

Firmly sliding the mental door closed on that section of his life and worry, Harry moved on to the next pressing problem. As he had been slowly waking up his current situation and basically getting himself over the shock of finding himself back in the present with responsibilities and relationships and memories and powers, he felt that there were far, far too many things that he needed to talk to Tom about.

So far, his 'talks', if you could call them that, with the older man had ended up fights about the past and Harry had already decided that the past had to stay in the past and he had to live in the present if he wanted to have a future. It was cliché, but true.

Right now he wanted to know what had happened in the wizarding world, as the meeting he had been part of before they left had been insufficient to fully explain what was going on. Presumably Hogwarts had begun teaching again, with Rodolphus Lestrange as the new Headmaster, and Harry figured that they wouldn't kill or be overly cruel to the students. After all, the wizarding world needed children as much as it needed anything else, if it was to survive. He had a hunch that the school would become something like it had before, only maybe with the Gryffindors now having a similar stigma to the one the Slytherins had before. It was a shame that the prejudice wouldn't be wiped out completely.

He needed to make Tom tell him what he was planning on doing about his previous goals, killing muggleborns and so on. Harry had seen too much death in his life to accept Tom's pointless slaughters, and although he grudgingly accepted that maybe Wizards having children with muggles could dilute the magic in the bloodlines, he refused to hold with killing muggleborns. They couldn't help being born different any more than they could help being born blonde or brunette, and it was wrong to discriminate against them for that.

Unfortunately all this would have to wait until he managed to get someplace quiet and private with Tom, something that probably wouldn't be happening for a while, if what Harry predicted about the visit to the vampires was correct.

He was quite looking forward to seeing Vlad again though, as well as the child that Tom had sired, which presumably was now grown up. In fact, if he did some quick mental calculating, it was probably about fifty years older than him. What a weird thought.

They touched down in Lithuania in the early hours of the morning, the sky still deep blue except for a faint lightening on the eastern horizon. The air was crisp and cold, but fresh, and the smell of earth and wood permeated the surroundings. They were at the edge of a large forest, ancient and dark, with gnarled trees that stretched knotty limbs and fingers out to scratch their faces and pull at their hair. Tethering the Pegasi at the edge of the forest and putting up charms to keep them safe, Voldemort strode into the forest, the others hurrying behind.

They walked for a long time, and Harry found himself trying to find the courage to ask the older man when they would be getting there, despite the childish connotations. But then he found himself getting depressed that his magnificent Gryffindor pride was in such a state, and fell back into moody silence.

Fortunately for Harry's mood spiral, they finally stopped in a part of the wood which seemed just like any other, Voldemort holding up a hand to signal a halt. Stepping forwards, he took a gleaming silver knife from the folds of his cloak and placed it in his palm, closing the hand then vigorously drawing the knife away throwing blood spatters on the black grass. Two bloody handprints were placed on two trees that were apparently normal and completely similar to every other tree around them. Voldemort then took out his wand and placed it on a third tree, muttering something into the bark, before stepping back and healing his hand with a flick of his wand.

There was silence for a few seconds, broken by the nervous shifting of Theodore Nott behind Harry, but then there was a sound like metal being dropped onto stone and a softly glowing mist began to form out of nowhere between the three trees that Voldemort had touched. The mist was a pale red and as Harry squinted into it there was a sensation of a dark and blurry figure approaching from a long way off, before he stepped out of the mist and into the clearing with the rest of them.

Harry's first impression was that the tall vampire reminded him of Severus Snape, wearing a black brocade tunic and a flowing cloak over the top that seemed to billow just as the old professor's clothes had. The face, though, was far more aristocratic than the potions master could ever have hoped to pull off, and the black hair swept back and down off the pale-skinned face in silky waves defied the ex-deatheater's debatable personal hygiene and greasy locks.

Eyeing them suspiciously, he sniffed then turned to Voldemort, his black gaze straying to the hand where traces of blood still lingered. Meeting the Dark Lord's eyes a moment later, he was faced with an unamused glare.

"State your business." The vampire said, fangs reflecting the red light emanating from the mist.

"I have come to speak with the council about a matter they supported me in. My title is Lord Voldemort." Voldemort said, showing his willingness to comply but not to mess about.

The vampire nodded "I see. And these?" He waved a clawed hand towards Harry and the Death Eaters standing nearby.

"My subjects." Voldemort appeared to hesitate slightly, and the vampire raised an eyebrow. "And my... partner." His eyes flicked to Harry as he said this, frowning, and Harry felt a tightening in his chest.

Bowing his head graciously, the vampire turned and brought his wrist up to his mouth, moving it sharply so that a thin trickle of blood fell into the red mist as he held his arm forward. The mist swirled and darkened, becoming a much deeper crimson colour, and then the vampire stepped back and indicated that they should proceed into the mist.

Voldemort turned and offered his hand to Harry, who gratefully took it and welcomed the familiar spark that passed between their skin as it touched. The older man's lips twitched slightly which Harry took to mean that if his minions hadn't been present, he would have smiled. Stirring up what he could of his famous Gryffindor pride, he stepped forward and the mist enveloped them.

It was nothing like being portkeyed, or anything else Harry had ever experienced except possibly the junction between Platforms nine and ten as they melted into Nine and Three Quarters. The ground stayed solid under his feet and yet there was a sensation of moving forward very fast, wind streaming past his ears and making them ring. After what felt like hours but was probably no more than a minute or so, the mist began to clear and Harry got his first sight of the new world.

Bright sunlight fell from a azure heaven and a high yellow sun to an earth which was displaying spring in all its glory. Under their feet was lush green grass that stretched out in an endless verdant plain as far as the eye could see. Every blade of foliage shone under the light and here and there amongst the green were flashes of blue and pink and yellow, tiny flowers poking their heads above the forest of greenery.

In front of them, stretching all the way up into the painfully blue, cloudless sky was a castle, many-turretted and shining white as the stone reflected the rays of the sun. One elegant spire rose above all the rest, piercing the heavens right underneath the sun so that it hurt your eyes to look and only by squinting could you see the pinnacle of the tower.

Harry heard a stunned intake of breath beside him and turned to see the rest of the Death Eaters emerging from the red mist, eyes wide with the splendour of the dazzling world they beheld. The vampire emerged from the mist as well and Harry saw an indulgent smile flicker across the stoic being's face as his guests took in the beauty of the Citadel.

"Glorious, isn't it?" He said, running his hand over one of the trees and turning away as the mist dissipated. Glancing around, his gaze met Harry's and Harry marvelled at how much softer, more alive he seemed on this side of the portal, as opposed to the harsh stoic he had seemed before.

"How is it that you can stand the sunlight?" Speight asked, face rosy with awe. "Surely vampires cannot go out during the day?"

The vampire smiled, showing a hint of fang. "Under normal circumstances, that would be true, my lady. However, in this world the sun produces no ultraviolet rays, meaning it doesn't cause us the slightest discomfort. Indeed, we rather enjoy it."

Speight nodded, eyes showing keen interest, and Harry stopped listening to the murmured conversation between the two. He could feel Tom's hand still in his, they hadn't parted, and now he stepped a little closer to the older man.

"It's beautiful, isn't it." Harry whispered, and Tom nodded, his crimson eyes soft and contented. "How long can we stay here?"

"At least a few days." Tom murmured back. "It may take a day or so to get permission to see the Council." Turning to Harry his hace took a more serious expression. "Harry, a lot of my time here will be spent in negotiations and political meetings. I don't want to exclude you from what I am doing, but I would prefer you not to be there."

The tight feeling in Harry's chest returned. "Why? You said... back then, you said we were partners. What did you mean?"

Tom seemed uncomfortable. "Some of the meetings will no doubt get... tense. Dangerous. The Council can be vicious and although they shouldn't attack you due to your place under my protection, if they get angry they might find it difficult to control themselves. I need to keep you safe, and that means you not attending these meetings." Harry narrowed his eyes, letting Tom know that he had spotted the avoided question, but letting it slide for now.

"Fine. I'll find something else to do." He let go of Tom's hand and turned away, but was pulled backwards into an embrace from behind.

"Plus I might find it difficult to concentrate if you're there." Tom breathed into his ear, making Harry shiver. "You are very distracting. Can I trust you to stay out of trouble for a few days?"

Grinning a bit, Harry turned back. "What, me? Stay out of trouble? What are the chances of that?" He stuck his tongue out a little, smirking at the older man, who raised an eyebrow.

Having finished his conversation with Speight, the vampire directed them across the meadow towards the castle, sitting back down in the grass as they walked away and picking up a leather bound book as he resumed guarding the portal entrance to the Citadel.

They strode swiftly towards the gates of the castle and Harry resisted the urge to run. He was feeling more alive than he had in days, exhilarated and happy for very little reason. Something about the sun, the grass, the peace of the place was rejuvinating him, and he could almost feel the blood zipping through his veins again after days of it moving sluggishly.

He had taken up Voldemort's hand as they walked away from the tree portal but as they approached the great stone archway into the Citadel he dropped it again, aware that Tom needed to look impressive. Having a teenager holding your hand was not particularly intimidating.

Once they stepped through the gates Harry became aware of just how large the Citadel really was. It appeared to be a decent sized city all by itself, with streets and mansion houses everywhere, high class shops lining pathways strewn with blossoming trees and flowers. It was honestly surprising how little the place looked like the images from Harry's imagination, of dark shadows and bats and gothic churches. The architecture did have a gothic feel to it, but the streets were filled with light and the only animals about seemed to be the odd slinky cat.

The focus of the city, the place where all the streets led to was in the centre, a large stone building that tapered up into the colossal spire that they had seen earlier. A few vampires walked about, moving through the streets just as they were, seemingly going about their day to day business just as humans did in the real world. Their party garnered a few interested looks from the citizens of the Citadel and though there was some definite scenting of the air as they walked past, the vampires cocking their heads as they listened to their heartbeats, none of them made any moves to intercept.

They arrived at the base of the central building, which was a castle in its own right, and were met with the gate guards. They were tall, taller even than Voldemort, and each had two forbidding black swords sheathed in their belts.

"What business have you at the Citadel?" One asked as Voldemort approached.

"I have come to speak with the Council." Voldemort stated. "My name is Lord Voldemort."

The other vampire nodded. "Ah. They have been expecting you. But who are these others? Gifts?" There was a disturbing, hungry look in his eyes as his gaze fell on the assembled party, which made Harry shiver, even in the warm sunlight.

"No." The firm voice of Voldemort made the vampire's eyes move make to him. "They are my subjects."

Clearly disappointed, the vampire motioned his head to the side, and they walked into the main part of the Citadel. It was indoors, all stone corridors and thickly carpeted floors, but the lights here were torch brackets on the walls that made shadows and dark places in the corners. As the great door slammed shut behind them, they all had to stand for a moment to get their sight back. Even Voldemort, with his snake eyes, took a few seconds of blinking before the gloom made sense.

"My Lord." A voice suddenly spoke up out the the shadows and a couple of members of the party, including Harry, jumped at the sound. A vampire stood there, in the shadows at the edge of the corridor, dressed in black and with black hair than covered all but one eye of his face. "Welcome to the Citadel. Follow me, please."

Harry was forced to run a little as they strode down the corridor after the retreating back of the vampire. The journey seemed to last some time in the shadows and the flickering light, but eventually they reached a hude wooden door that was so tall that the top disappeared into darkness above them. With a bow, the guide vampire stepped aside, leaving the party staring up at the intimidating structure.

Voldemort knocked twice on the wood producing a heavy booming sound, then entered without waiting for a response from within. The rest of them trooped in after him, Harry wanting to stick as close as possible to Tom but being unable to as the man was striding ahead, in his Mighty-Dark-Lord mode.

"Ah, Riddle." A powerful, sibilant voice greeted them. "We were expecting you."

Facing their party was a low table with four seats placed behind it, the one on the right end conspicuously empty. The vampire that had spoken sat in the middle of the other two, fingers steepled and head tilted forward so that his dark, straight hair fell down either side of his face and obscured intimate examination of his features. It was an eerie effect that made the seated figure seem frightening, imposing. It also seemed entirely forced, the pose clearly planned for just such an effect, belying a self-importance that rubbed Harry entirely the wrong way. He fought to keep from frowning, ensuring his face was determinedly expressionless.

"I would prefer, Amadeus, if you were to call me Voldemort." Tom stated, voice level in a way which every single one of his followers, including Harry, knew meant he was very irritated. Harry heard Nott Senior take a barely audible breath behind him.

Amadeus arched one perfectly sculpted brow and his lips quirked in a condescending smile that increased Harry's growing dislike for the man. "That vainglorious moniker? Very well, if you so desire... _Voldemort_." The smirk dared Voldemort to respond, but the Dark Lord was silent. Only the slight twitch of the man's wand hand showed any indication of his frustration.

"I presume that you are here to discuss your little conquest of the British Isles, is that correct?" Amadeus said, his expression becoming slightly more serious. Voldemort seemed to sober up as well, the teasing over and the buisness coming to the forefront.

"Yes. As you will be aware, I was sucessful in overturning the Ministry and Hogwarts governing bodies. Your aid was most welcome." Voldemort bowed his head slightly, and Harry saw Amadeus tilt his more upright, accepting the thanks. "I am here now to discuss the new laws concerning vampires in Britain."

Amadeus nodded, motioning to the vampire seated next to him, tall and hooded. "This is Methuei Velirox, my representative for eastern Europe. I believe the two of you have met before, have you not."

"Velirox?" Voldemort started, looking towards the hooded vampire, who had raised his head enough for glittering blue eyes to show through.

"Riddle." Velirox intoned, and this time Voldemort made no complaint.

There were a few moments of tense silence, in which Harry's eyes flicked between the two imposing figures. What was this? Who was this Velirox guy? He vaguely remembered Tom mentioning the name but he had dictated nothing which could be the cause of this tension.

"How...how is Kirmuin?" Voldemort said, his voice carrying an edge that was apprehensive as well as containing a softness that made Harry's glance fly to the back of his lover's head.

"She is adequate." The vampire said. Then he turned his head to Amadeus, breaking the tension. "But this is neither the time nor the place to speak of such things. Archlord, will you join us in the southern chamber?"

Amadeus nodded and as one the two vampires rose, stepping around the table and walking to a dark archway in the wall. After a moment and a glance at Harry that revealed nothing, Voldemort followed. There was a few moments of silence before the third vampire seated at the table, the one that hadn't spoken before, did so.

"I apologise for the Archlord and the Viceroy's behavior. They are... not very nice people, to be honest." The third vampire had been hooded as well but now they pushed the dark material back, revealing a beautiful heart-shaped face framed by flowing golden locks. The lady, for she was undoubtedly female, smiled, and Harry heard at least four intakes of breath from behind him as the straight men of the party beheld her stunning beauty.

"I am Galatea, Archlady." The vision of feminine loveliness said. "And in case nobody has done so already, I would like to welcome you to the Citadel." She rose and circled the table, coming forward to meet them. "I keep telling the men that we need some more light and flowers in the place, but apparently that would 'lower the tone'" She said, rolling her eyes whilst making air quotes with her long manicured fingers.

"Jecht?" She called, and the door that they had entered by swung open, the vampire who had escorted them there poking his head through.

"Yes, my Lady?"

"Would you go and make sure our guests' rooms are prepared? And while you're up there, see if Tenshi is in the Library." She gave one of her breath-taking smiles to the shrouded vampire, a slight shudder running through the cloaked shoulders.

"As you wish, my Lady." Jecht bowed his head and left. Galatea turned back to Harry and the others and seemed to notice their apprehensive expressions.

She laughed, a beautiful sound that rang through the small room. "Oh, don't mind Jecht. He may look and act a little strange, but he hasn't been out of the main castle in three hundred years, so you'll have to excuse him."

"Three hundred years?" Speight echoed in disbelief. "Why on earth not?"

"He doesn't like the light." Galatea said, eyes becoming a little sad. "He's a relatively young vampire, only a few hundred years old, and had some rather bad experiences with people forcing him into sunlight back on earth. Even our modified, perfectly safe sunlight terrifies him, poor thing." She laughed again, looking up at them. "He makes a wonderfully atmospheric guide though."

Speight laughed slightly as well, a little nervously, but the potentially awkward moment was broken by a soft knock on the door and Jecht's reappearance. "Their rooms are ready, My Lady."

"Thankyou." Galatea smiled at him, and Jecht bowed his head. "Will you please escort them to their chambers now? I'll see you all later." She added for the benefit of the party, and went back to sit behind the low table, picking up some of the parchment that was strewn across it. Harry and the rest of the group turned back and followed Jecht out of the room and back into the labyrinth of shadowy corridors.

They seemed to travel a great distance and although there were no stairs on their route, Harry had the strange feeling that he was going higher, the maze of corridors very slightly sloping upwards. They passed almost nobody, only a couple of shrouded figures and one exquisitely dressed female vampire meeting them in the corridors. All three passers-by nodded to Jecht and took notice of the travellers, but the only one whose reactions they could discern was the lady, displaying a mixture of hunger and disinterest.

One by one they were dropped off at their rooms, a terse word from Jecht all that signified who was to go where. Harry was the last one to be dropped off, the furthest along the winding corridor and presumably the highest one as well.

The room was small but had a great, open window across one wall which made the space seem larger, more open. Its furnishings were sparse but tasteful, ornate without being extravagant. Sighing slightly, Harry sat down on the bed and immediately felt a sense of exhaustion wash over him. He frowned a little, as the sudden tiredness was unexpected and he been awake for less that twelve hours, but the stupor quickly became too strong to fight and he sunk into a deep sleep, still dressed in his travelling cloak and lying sprawled on the covers.

He was woken by a hand brushing softly over his cheek, smoothing the hair back from his eyes. "Mm...Tom?" He murmured, but the gently feminine laughter was unexpected and his eyes flew open in surprise.

The beautiful face of Galatea met his eyes, smiling down at him as she twirled a lock of black hair around her finger. "Sorry little one, but I am not your beloved. He is still busy with those boring men downstairs." She laughed. "Do you have the time to play with me while you await him?"

"Um...play with you?" Harry struggled to sit up. "You dont mean like..." He blushed and Galatea only laughed harder.

"Oh no, little one! I wouldn't take something so special away from your beloved. He needs you too much." She took Harry's hand in hers, and held it. "I was wondering if you would come to visit someone with me. I think you will enjoy it." Smiling at him again, Harry compelled to do anything the beautiful lady asked. He suspected some ind of vampiric compulsion but unless she asked him to do anything actively unpleasant, he would indulge her.

They walked together down the neverending corridor, and Harry found himself shooting glances at Galatea out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't...attracted to her exactly, there was just something about her that made you want to look at her, to garner as much of her attention and subsequently her beauty as possible. "Are you like... part veela or something?" He asked.

The sound of her laughter echoed amongst the stone. "No, little one, I am not. In fact, my beauty is a mask, a porcelain shield to hide myself behind. The years have...not been kind to me." A kind of sadness entered her eyes as she looked down.

"So...you are old?"

"I have known the summer more than three thousand times." Her voice was airy, distant and less warm than before. Harry felt Galatea's grip loosen on his hand and he held tighter, not wishing to let her slip away. "Only Amadeus is older. All the others skulk in the dark places deep in the earth, feeding off us and yet keeping us alive at the same time. I hail from a race of parasites..." She trailed off, and suddenly her eyes snapped into focus again and she was once more the regal, bright lady of before, all trace of the sorrowful maiden gone without trace.

"I apologise, little one. I forgot myself. Here, we have arrived." They had stopped outside a set of huge oak doors and although the looked heavy Galatea pushed them open easily with one hand. They walked into a world of books.

It was a library, that was clear enough, but it seemed that whoever had designed it had had more books than fitted on the shelves. The walls were covered from floor to ten-foot ceiling with books and piles of tomes that lay in stacks up to six or seven feet high all over the place. A few vampires were visible here and there amongst the paper mountains, and Galatea led Harry by the hand between the towers to one corner of the room. A figure was stood atop a pile of books, hanging on to a shelf whilst attempting to reach up to another shelf, right near the ceiling.

"Greetings, paper-muncher!" Galatea called to the vampire atop the shelf and they attempted to look round, shifting their gripping hand in the process so that they slipped and lost hold of the wood, sending themsleves and the pile of old tomes they was standing on crashing to the floor in a fountain of dust. A few other vampires looked over in mild interest but soom returned to their own reading sources, bored with the interruption. Coughing was heard from inside the mushroom cloud and a blurry figure staggered forward, brushing dust off of his clothes and hair.

"My Lady!" He spoke, annoyed. "If you must call me that ridiculously degrading nickname, please refrain from using it when I am concentrating. It is bad enough falling down in such an atrociously undignified manner, but even worse to have lost my train of thought. I hope you are satisfied." He scowled, crossing his arms and blowing an errant lock of hair out of his face.

Galatea smiled and tugged Harry forward. "Very much. I would like you to meet someone. Harry Potter, this is Vladimir Tenshi. Vladimir, this is Harry."

There was a moment of eye contact, a sudden association in Harry's mind and a memory of a night, not so long ago, when a seventeen year old friend had looked at him in a dormitory in the Hogwarts dungeons. In the vampire's mind, an old and fading _obliviate _finally loosed its tenuous hold on the memories it was tasked to protect. It was fifty years and a couple of hundred miles away, but the faces were unmistakable.

"Vlad?" Harry asked, at the same time as the vampire whispered "Hart?" incredulously.

Galatea smiled knowingly, patted them both on the shoulder and moved away to look at a nearby shelf of books, practically whistling with nonchalance.

"Hart, what are you doing here?" Vlad asked, eyes wide. "And you...you haven't aged a day. What happened?"

Harry smiled a little, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "It's...kind of a long story.

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort, also known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who and no doubt a whole host of other ridiculous titles, only some of which he'd made up himself, was bloody irritated.

Amadeus sat across from him, smirking infuriatingly, with Velirox a silent shadow in the background, the _scritch scritch_ of his quill the only sound in the room as Tom dug his nails into the palms of his hands in frustration. "I can't give you humans to eat, Amadeus. The people would never go along with it, and the influx of vampires to Britain would become too overwhelming for our resources. Soon the muggles would notice, and once they get their hands on the information they would wipe out not only the vampire colonies but the wizarding world as well. I can't take that risk."

"Then you will have to offer me something else. Of similar value." Tom ground his teeth together. The undead bastard was playing hard to get, fighting his plans at every single step and making it impossibly difficult to provide something that would do as collateral to ensure they both kept their halves of the bargain.

He couldn't afford to lose his temper however, and although he was approximately eighty percent sure he could subdue the vampire long enough to escape, he didn't want to risk sparking a disagreement that could cause all of his carefully laid plans to fall to pieces. "When I began this war and asked for your help, Amadeus, the price you demanded was freedom from persecution and eradication of all the laws unfairly targetting your kind. I can now give you these things, but if the vampiric community wishes to be treated as equals amongst wizards then they will have to function under and obey the same laws. I will not have a race of serial killers freely roaming the streets."

Tom saw Amadeus' lips tightening, but he continued on. "Your food will not be denied, there will be blood banks made available and even live donors if it can be proved that those drinking will not lose control and drain the victim dry. The vampires will be full and unconstrained members of magical society, but even they must obey society's rules. Which means no randomly killing people."

A frown was the only response to his words, and the two powerful men gazed intently at each other for a good minute, the air between them practically humming with energy. A cough from Velirox broke the tension, and Tom turned, having forgotten about the other vampire. "My Lords, might I suggest a break from negotiations? You could continue tomorrow."

Amadeus nodded and Tom followed his example. They were at a stalemate and clearly no further progression was possible at this time, so a break was probably the best thing. They rose and exited the chamber, Amadeus striding ahead whilst Tom hung back in order to speak to Velirox.

"I hear Kirmuin is marrying this winter." He spoke softly, and the vampire's gaze briefly flickered to him before returning to neutrality. "I would congratulate her and her fiancée."

"Your congratulations are not necessary." Velirox's voice was equally soft, but Tom could hear the minute tremor in tone that denoted the vampire's anger. Mentally, he sighed. He supposed he ought to have been expecting this reaction, he had broken the heart of the man's only daughter after all. It had all been such a long time ago, decades, and to the current date he had no idea what Azul had eventually done to stop the female vampire from stalking him. "I would request that you stay away from Kirmuin whilst you are staying in the Citadel." Velirox intoned and Tom nodded. It was not unexpected, and no great loss to him as he rather suspected the appearance of the female vampire would cause Harry some distress. Partcularly if he learnt of her and Tom's past history.

Up ahead, Amadeus snared a passing shadow and revealed the scrawny vampire who had guided them in. The elder vampire spoke in hushed tones to him, then released the shoulder he had been gripping, allowing the other vampire to escape. "I believe your party have already retired to their rooms." He spoke to Tom.

After being given instructions on how to reach his own rooms, Tom set off into the heights of the Citadel. He was familiar with the style of corridor, appearing always to be slanting to the left and never reaching any stairs so that by walking in endless spirals you climbed to the pinnacle of the tower. As he passed higher, he suddenly became aware of low voices up ahead. As he reached his own door, he could hear the voices coming from the one beside it.

A low laugh echoed through the wood and Tom stiffened. That was Harry's laugh! Knocking on the door he pushed it open before those inside had a chance to answer and arrived into a situation that shocked him and left him standing in the doorway like a moron.

Harry sat on the bed, nursing a glass of wine (or something else red, he hoped it was wine) and talking animatedly to a man with long black hair. The man's face was turned away but something in his voice sounded familiar and when Harry suddenly stopped talking and exclaimed "Tom!" he turned around.

"Dear Merlin." Tom breathed. "Vlad?" He stepped forwards and Vlad rose to meet him. There was an awkward moment where neither one of them moved, fifty years of animosity hanging over their heads like stormclouds, but then Vlad stumbled a little and Tom had just enough time to realise Harry must have pushed the other man towards him before he had an armful of vampire.

And suddenly they were embracing like old friends, which really, they were. Vlad's fingers were almost painfully tight through Tom's cloak but he endured it and took a sense of security from them, leaning forward and allowing himself the luxury of burying his face in Vlad's beautiful hair, inhaling the scent which even now took him back to late nights in Slytherin common room playing chess, drinking wine and talking about the future.

Opening his eyes he saw Harry smiling at the two of them happily, still sitting on the bed cross legged. As his eyes moved across the bedcovers and the rest of the room he suddenly noticed a figure sitting in a chair by the head of the bed. The man was reading a large, dusty book, shoulder length black hair falling across his face so that the top half was shrouded in shadow, and seemed totally uninterested in what was going on in the room, but Tom noted the tiny twitches of the mouth that he suspected meant that the chair's occupant was not entirely pleased with the current state of events. Carefully, he examined the face in case it was another unexpected old friend but after a moment he concluded that the vampire was a stranger.

"And who is this, my Hart?" He asked of Harry as he and Vlad broke their embrace, and Harry turned to the reader in something like surprise, as if he had forgotten that the vampire was even present. Then apprehension and tension crossed his face and he was frowning as he turned back to Tom.

"This is Dimitri."

At the sound of his name the reading vampire looked up and put down his book with exaggerated slowness, rising from his seat and stepping forward but making no move to greet Tom. Tom was aware of Vlad at his side, eyes darting between the two of them, and Tom's puzzlement gradually morphed to irritation. "What is it? The tension in this room is palable."

Harry bit his lip and Tom was momentarily distracted by how sexy he looked before his mind was snapped out of his trousers and into real life at Harry's words.

"Tom.... This is your son."

* * *

**A/N : Dun Dun Dunnn... so yeah.**

**I hope this was worth the wait, I don't think Ive ever stressed out so much over a single chapter of anything, ever. I have already started CH3 and there is a good 2000 words done and waiting for more. I have a plan which should carry me through to about chapter 5 and then I get sort of muddled, but hopefully by the time I get there I will have figured stuff out.**

**In response to questions:**

**Who thinks Tom should return to his pre-experimenting looks? Or have some alteration so he's less scaly and has like... hair and stuff?**

**_LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! REVIEWS ARE MY OWN PERSONAL BRAND OF HEROIN (_**Not stupid sparkly wannabe vampire failures**_)!!_**


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